


Somewhere Between the Turning Signal Clicks

by littlemel



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemel/pseuds/littlemel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all just wheels in motion, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Between the Turning Signal Clicks

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Reunion Tour" by The Weakerthans. Originally posted December 22, 2008.

Gerard wakes up with a crick in his neck and Frank slumped against him. It's cold in the van, quiet except for the radio. Gerard fidgets into a more comfortable position, pulling his hands up inside his sleeves. They pass under a streetlight and he notices Frank's undone fly, his hand shoved inside.

Gerard's face heats up, his belly clenching. It's no big deal, it's not like they haven't all caught each other jerking off by now. But this is different. Vulnerable, in a way. Intimate. This is looking instead of pretending not to, at the flashes of pale skin, stark ink, dark hair. The angle of Frank's wrist and the loose curve of his hand over his dick, through his boxers.

Gerard's hands flex on his knees, shredded denim rasping under his fingers, and he makes himself look away, around the van.

Mikey and Ray are both snoring from the row in front of him. Otter's drumming on the steering wheel. All Gerard can see of Cortez is the back of his head, propped on a wadded-up hoodie wedged between the passenger seat and the window. Outside, there's nothing but trees and sky. He should go back to sleep.

Gerard closes his eyes again and tucks his head under Frank's chin, where he smells like coffee and cigarettes and unwashed boy, and Frank stirs, huffs sleepily. His hips roll up against the hand still in his jeans and Gerard holds his breath, suddenly more awake than asleep and halfway to hard.

He presses the heel of his hand into the seam of his jeans, knowing he should really just move and let Frank sleep. Unless he wakes up and wants to finish what he started. Either way, Gerard should go plunk himself down next to Mikey, smoke a cigarette or three, and not think about Frank's dick.

"Frank," he whispers. "Um."

Frank mumbles something that's mostly vowels, and nuzzles Gerard's cheek. Gerard tilts into it and the corners of their mouths connect, Frank sighing and pressing his knee into Gerard's. The kiss rights itself and deepens; shallow slicks of tongue, Frank's fingers on Gerard's arm.

Kissing is one thing. It's nothing, really, because Frank'll kiss anybody, Gerard knows that. But Gerard likes kissing Frank because it's Frank, not because it's kissing. And by the way Frank's thumb is digging into Gerard's wrist, right where his pulse is hammering, Gerard's pretty sure this is on its way to more than just kissing. He has no idea what that means, if it means anything at all. Frank's still half asleep, probably has no idea who's sitting next to him.

The van hits a bumpy patch of road and their mouths smear apart, Gerard's hand ending up on Frank's knee. Frank shifts closer, nodding, and Gerard's hand skids up Frank's thigh to the bulge at his crotch. He wants to think that Frank's more awake than asleep now, from the way he's kissing back, his teeth clipping Gerard's lip. The rumble of the van and the roar of Gerard's heartbeat in his ears sound exactly the same, and it's all just wheels in motion, anyway. Things moving on, moving forward.

"Frankie." There's a little more whine in it this time, a needy little catch. Frank's grip tightens on Gerard's wrist, and Gerard fumbles his hand inside Frank's boxers, past the tangle of hair to close over his dick. It slips hotly through Gerard's fist as Frank pushes his hips up, grabbing a handful of Gerard's hoodie. At least mostly awake, then.

"Fuck," Frank pants, pushing his face into Gerard's neck. His breath is hot and damp, raising goosebumps on Gerard's skin. "I'm gonna-" He curls in closer, his teeth grazing Gerard's jugular. Gerard shivers, his rhythm stuttering. Frank's hand wraps around his, and Gerard's whole world becomes skin and heat and breath and Frank.

He nudges at Frank's chin with his until they're kissing again, and Frank inhales sharply, shudders hard and spills into Gerard's hand. Messy and quietly imperfect, Gerard's heart sticking in the back of his throat when Frank laughs.

"Thank you," he groans, or at least that's what it sounds like he says before he lets go of Gerard's hoodie and slumps back. His cheeks are flushed, his mouth spit-slick. Gerard just nods, wiping his hand on his jeans. He has no idea where to look, so he stares at the wet streak it leaves behind.

"Hey." The radio station fades in, out, back in again as Frank lifts up to zip his jeans. He pushes his hair off his face. "Can I bum a cigarette?"

"Yeah, sure." Gerard wrestles his pack from the pocket of his hoodie and flips the top open. "Here."

Frank slides a cigarette from the pack and tucks it behind his ear, settling against Gerard's side with a sleepy sigh and a murmured thanks. Mikey and Ray and Cortez are still asleep. Otter's jabbing at the radio. They're still rolling through the forest in the middle of nowhere.

Otter goes into a turn too fast, pressing Gerard into Frank and Frank into the window. Frank noses at the underside of Gerard's jaw, his hand on Gerard's leg. He's laughing again, almost soundless, just a warm huff against Gerard's ear.

"I owe you one."


End file.
